


Lamb al Asador

by FallowDeer



Category: His Face All Red (Webcomic)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Horror Elements, Incest, Isolation, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallowDeer/pseuds/FallowDeer
Summary: No eye for good meat.
Relationships: The Narrator/The Narrator's Brother
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	Lamb al Asador

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plastics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastics/gifts).



He attended every one of the town meetings at his brother’s heels, a pale wavering shadow easily ignored. The men and women milling in the bright center of the hall never called out for him when he arrived. None of them slapped his shoulder or shook his hand in friendly greeting. He lurked on the fringes, uneasy and alone. No one looked at him there in the corners of the room. No one ever looked at him, except his brother.

His brother would turn and smile, would wrap a strong hand around the back of his neck and draw him into the light. His brother would tuck him under a warm arm and kiss his cheek with soft lips. The longer his brother stood with him the less defined he became. Transparent, the rest of them could stare right through him.

“My brother! Our horses are hitched together,” his brother would declare, and then he would throw his head back and laugh.

His brother had one pony, shaggy and gray.

_I have no animals._

No one but his brother had ever smiled at him until that meeting, the last one he attended at his brother’s heels. At that meeting he offered to go to the woods to hunt a beast.

At that meeting they finally laughed at him, too.

Ꮚ･ꈊ･Ꮚ

He woke alone.

His chest ached. He staggered from his bed, cold and stiff from the night’s chill. His dreams were bad. He’d never used to dream.

He splashed water on his face but it did nothing to wake him. He blinked at himself through the little mirror over the basin. His eyes were pale circles, wide and blank.

He forced himself outside, away from his cold reflection and into the cold world. The field was as it always was, a dull rippling sea in the twilight before dawn. He could walk it end to end and find nothing but empty solitude. Beyond the field the woods stood black, watching him. He turned his back on them. 

The trip to his brother’s cottage was long, every step heavier than the last. 

His brother’s young wife opened the door already smiling. She waved him inside to the little table in the kitchen. She set tea in front of him already steeped and cooling, asked him if he was well. She decided he looked tired. She touched the tips of her fingers to the pink flowers on the table, told him they were peonies. She asked if he thought they were beautiful and didn’t wait for his answer. She laughed often, bright and merry, and her starry eyes sparkled with it. She was a fount of joy but the shallows of her couldn't reach him there at the edge of the room. Beyond her at the far window stood his brother, a shadow silhouetted by the sunrise. His brother laughed with her.

He sat at the little table and looked at them together. He was staring but it didn’t matter, they never looked back.

“Come into town with me,” his brother said from the threshold of his cottage, young wife at his side, his back to the room. “We will have a lamb from the butcher. If we cook it tonight we may eat it tomorrow.”

His brother pressed a kiss to his wife’s plump cheek. He knew how those lips felt.

_Of course._

The trip to town was short. He walked closest to the woods, felt them in the prickling hair at his nape. His brother walked in the sunrise and cast a long shadow over him. The gray pony trailed behind. 

“Don’t be nervous,” his brother said from inside the sun, distant gaze focused on a flock of sheep. They milled uneasily at the edge of the woods, as far from the pasture fence as they could get. They were dyed warm in morning’s colors.

His brother yawned, white teeth flashing between his full lips. The sun was blinding.

He looked away, back across the pasture at the little cluster of sheep. His vision wouldn’t clear; no matter how many times he blinked, they remained a smear of red against the green of the trees.

_So close to the woods._

“Sheep are smarter than you’d think,” his brother said, “but they’re not as smart and you and me.”

The trip was short. The butcher smiled at him when he stepped inside. Behind the counter the butcher’s assistant sharpened a silver knife. The shop smelled like smoked meat and fresh blood.

“You choose,” his brother said.

He didn’t protest, though he had no eye for good meat. He threaded his way between carcasses and pretended to examine them while his brother charmed the butcher. They stood together and made easy conversation. He was staring but it didn’t matter, they never looked back.

His brother had such a way with people. Just a week ago it had been unbearable. He would have waited there at his brother's heel, imagining taking his brother’s fine neck between his teeth. He would have imagined his brother choking on his laughter, going cold in his arms. His brother, then the butcher, then the town.

“Good choice,” his brother said.

The trip back was short.

It was sunset, tinting the world red. More time had passed than he’d realized. He was tired, that made it harder to focus. 

He retraced his steps and this time it was his shadow covering his brother. The gray pony trailed behind, weighed down by the carcass. His brother hadn’t watched him crack it open, only the dark of the trees had seen.

It was twilight when they reached the field that stretched out from his brother’s cottage. The sky was dim and absent of stars, wind rippling across the long grass. Under them the raw earth waited.

His brother cupped a calloused hand under his jaw. He followed the wordless urging to tilt his head back, back, to look into his brother’s face. 

His brother was gazing beyond him at the flayed open corpse. “You do it,” his brother said, full lips twisted in something that wasn’t a smile.

Once, when they were young, his brother had found him lost in the woods. Alone in the dark he’d been frozen stiff, unable to move. His brother had seen him huddled under a maple tree where the roots tangled across him like the veins of an old woman’s hand. His brother’s dark eyes had been wet and red. When he’d dragged him from the roots, his brother’s mouth had been turned down in a quivering line. “Thank god I found you,” his brother had said, “I was so afraid.” 

That had changed when they’d left the woods. He’d dozed nestled in his brother’s lap, his brother’s fingers in his hair scratching at the soft skin behind his ears. “Thank god I found him,” his brother had laughed, “we got out of there together!”

Everyone had known it was his brother who got them out. Everyone had seen it was his brother who led him from the woods, arm thrown over his shoulder like a chain, hand curled around his neck like a collar. They’d laughed about it, how brave his brother was. He hadn’t minded so much, then.

He didn’t mind it now. His brother’s nails were blunt, his fingers were warm. He shivered when they withdrew, stroking along his bared neck. His hands were numb but he managed to hold the shovel that was pressed into them.

He hadn’t much practice, digging holes.

“You’re a natural,” his brother called.

It was harder work than he was used to. His hands cracked, then bled. 

When he was done with it the pit glowed. It smelled like fresh blood and smoked meat. He crawled from it.

His brother took back the shovel from him and examined the stains he’d left. His brother leaned down and took his hands, one after the other. 

"Such cruel work," his brother said.

A mouth was pressed to his knuckle, a line licked over his palm. 

"I’ve got you," his brother said.

He let himself be drawn up until they were standing pressed together.

His brother’s lips were red in the glow of the pit. They were still parted but he wasn’t brave enough to do more than touch his own to them. It was the barest whisper of a kiss, soft. It lasted for an eternity.

His brother released him, put a hand against his heart and pushed him gently away.

His face was hot and wet. He felt cracked open, sick all the way down to his bones. Was this guilt?

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

“I didn't want to upset you,” his brother said with the edge of a smile. Finally, finally he looked at him. His eyes were pale circles reflecting the cold moonlight, inhumanly bright. They glittered in the dark, wide and blank.

They were not his brother’s eyes.

“My poor brother,” his brother’s voice said. The edge of a smile sharpened on his brother’s handsome face, “You seem tired. Go to sleep, in the morning it will be like it never happened.”

He fled. He didn’t look back. Something from the woods watched him go, hungry.

Ꮚ･ꈊ･Ꮚ

He woke.

_Alone._

His arms ached. He staggered from the bed cold and stiff, still in his work-clothes. 

_A bad dream._

His dreams were always bad.

He stepped outside. The field was undisturbed, not a blade of grass bent. He knew if he made the long walk to his brother’s cottage he’d be welcomed inside by his brother’s young wife. She’d smile at him as she had every day since he’d dragged his brother, dead, to that pit. She’d bring him tea, ask after his health. She'd set flowers on the table in front of him and she’d invite him to admire them with her. His brother would watch her and laugh along with her simple delight.

There was blood on his hands, dry and cracking. When he rubbed his fingers together it flaked off and disappeared into the long grass.

He was tired. He was so tired. He missed his brother.

Something was watching him.

He turned toward the woods.


End file.
